Street lights
by Blank-Picture
Summary: USxUK Arthur is attacked in an alleyway, Alfred finds him on the brink of death and tries to nurse him back to health, intent on avenging his friends pain. Man, I can't write summaries... Rated M for bad lang and violence and also Yaoi type later
1. Awake

My, I do sound like a sadist... I didn't mean to... ¬¬

R and R please, if you don't mind :)

Constructive criticism is welcome, not too harsh please, this is my first time ¦3

* * *

_A nation's mental and physical capacity surpasses that of a human. This means that where a human would pass out or die from the shock that comes with pain, their brain no longer being able to handle the chaos it brings, a nation must go on suffering, unable to escape. This forces them to experience higher levels of agony than a human can imagine._

The pain came in waves. Arthur inhaled sharply as another, stronger one hit. He glanced down at the blood pooling rapidly on his stomach and winced as his fingers trembled into the chasm to retrieve the last bullet. Eyes flying open in shock and teeth biting into his bottom lip, he held in a scream which transformed into a muffled whimper. He withdrew his closed hand and threw the shining silver bullet aside where it rolled into the collected pile that Arthur had pulled from his trembling body. Seven. Who the fuck had shot him seven times? Arthur had good reflexes and could handle himself in a fight, yet someone had managed to get seven direct hits in daylight with no witnesses. Who would even want to? He let the question slip his mind as another vibe of agony encased his mind, his body twisting in spasm as a shuddering whisper passed his lips.

His dazed emerald eyes lifted to the walls of the alley he lay in. Where was he? He couldn't remember, he had been hit on the head quite a few times during the attack and it had ended with his head being smashed into the brick wall, leaving a throbbing ringing pain settled in his brain. It was only now that he realised it was night. He must have been lying there for hours, but he couldn't move. Each time he tried, he was gifted with sharp contortions which left his body heaving with suffering and self-torture.

But he had to move sometime. Arthur began to brace himself for the extreme vibes of distress he knew would follow, readying himself, he began to shift his weight to his arms to pull himself up on the wall. He pushed down. This time the pain was too much to stifle as a chilling scream escaped his lungs, trailing off into the darkness of the alley-way.

He slumped against the wall, ignoring the dull throbbing from his back and rode out the last wisps of agony. His breath came in short pants, exhausted from the stress on his physical and mental health. Something caught in his chest and he began couching violently into the silence, this produced a metallic taste in his mouth. Was that... blood? He spat the blood out to his side and tried to steady his breaths.

He tried to look down at his body, unsure exactly of what injuries he held. He knew he had been shot, but what else? He didn't remember. He had fallen into a trance after being slammed into the wall, not unconscious, the pain had stayed, just a state where he was unable to think or hear or speak. He glanced down at his body. His shirt was ripped. There was purple bruising on the left side of his chest, judging from the deformity, he had a broken rib. Or a few. He saw his ankle sticking out at an awkward angle, most likely twisted. Various gashes and stab marks scattered the surface of his skin, surrounding the gunshot wounds. There were bound to be other injuries, he could feel them, but not see them.

How had this happened? Had there been just one attacker? Or were there many?

Arthur cried out in frustration and pain. He was Britain. Once the largest empire that roamed the earth, encompassing near a quarter of the worlds surface yet now, he was now cowering in an alley-way, unable to move for pain. Pathetic. His cry still echoing off the walls, his eyes were drawn to the far end of the alley. A dark figure stood backlit against the street lamps outside.

Someone had heard him. Shit. Arthur was in no state to defend himself. Wincing at his mistake he stayed as still as he could, hoping he could undo what was done. The shadow descended upon his location and he mentally cursed himself. He had let his assailant know he was still alive and now he was going to finish the job. Fuck.

Searching his mind for solutions, he found himself unable to think straight, the pain disallowing thoughts to form fully in his head, numbing it into a useless state. He could only watch in panic as the figure grew closer.

"A-Arthur?"

Arthur knew that voice, yet could not place it as his mind felt like it was stuffed with cotton. He forced his head up, dim emerald eyes searching the dark space above him, adjusting to the night.

The figure lent down, allowing Arthur to identify the face. Emerald eyes finally reaching the worried azure ones of the figure. He collapsed onto Alfred and allowed a whimper of pain mixed with relief pass his lips.

"S-shit! Arthur, what the fuck happened?" Alfred knelt, voice shaking with worry,

"I-i-it it hurts..." Arthur whispered.

"Fuck. I know. Shit... Ahhhh..."

Alfred looked around him in panic, still taking in the situation. He turned back to Arthur, noting his shallow breaths and slight wheezing with concern.

"Can you stand?"

"T-too painful..."

Alfred's brows knitted in worry and panic. He needed to get Arthur away, but moving him would cause too much pain.

Meanwhile, Arthur felt another wave of pain begin to surface. He clenched his teeth and hissed as his wounds began to throb and sting.

"Hit me." Said a quiet, rough voice.

"Wh-what?"

"There's too m-much pain, I can't m-move in this state. I have to... have to sleep..."

Realising what Arthur meant, Alfred began to search for another solution. One that would refrain from hurting his friend any further. He failed to find one. Arthur was hurt. Badly, as far as he could tell. He needed to move him, but it would be too painful to move him as he was, somehow he needed to sleep.

Seeing no escape from the scenario, he brushed Arthurs cheek and pulled his head up, exposing his neck. He knew what to do, he had done it many times before, just never with a friend or ally.

"Are you ready?" He asked, voice still masked with worry,

Arthur smirked in response, eyes hooded and face dark.

Alfred took this as a "yes" and his hand swiftly flew through the darkness and towards Arthur's neck, twitching as contact came close. He stopped just before he reached the pressure point, unable to go further.

Arthur felt the rush of air on his neck and pried his eyes open to see Alfred with tears glinting in his normally bright eyes, head bowed.

"I can't. I won't"

"Please, Alfred." Arthur said in the steadiest voice he could muster.

Their eyes connected once again and Alfred nodded, pulling Arthur's neck up and pushing forcefully onto the side of Arthur's neck. Arthur whimpered, momentarily feeling all of his pain seep back into him before falling unconscious on the cold concrete.

* * *

Alfred sat, dumfounded for a few seconds, unable to believe what he had just done to his friend, before shaking himself to his senses and picking Arthur up into a fire mans lift. Upon standing, he nearly slipped on the large amount of blood Arthur has spilt onto the floor. He grimaced and squeezed his eyes shut for a second before clearing his mind and working out the quickest way to the hospital.

He could feel Arthurs blood trickling down his back and began to quicken his pace, realising Arthur was still very much in danger.

Stepping out of the alley, he looked over his shoulder and now, by the light of the street lamps, was able to see the full extent of Arthur's injuries.

He swallowed and felt his stomach tighten, bringing Arthur around his front to support him more carefully. He could now access the injuries on the whole of his body, but glancing over the trembling body, in his arms, he decided to leave that for later, when he could be sure he was safe. Inhaling shakily, he began his journey to the hospital, protecting the frail, smaller nation from the cascading rain and harsh winds. Leaning forward and whispering comforting words into his chest, _What the fuck happened, Arthur?_


	2. Stuck

SORRY GUYS! This is a reeeaaallllyy boring chapter. I felt I needed to put it in though, it kinda sets settings and stuff... So stick ith it, it may just get better. Maybe. I hope. If I stop failing... ¬¬

Thankyou so much to anyone who faved or reviewed, each time I get an email from , I squeal a bit ¦3

ANYWAY, GO!

* * *

Arthur woke to a dull pain radiating through his body. His head felt heavy as he tried to pull himself out of sleep. Inhaling deeply through his nose he sensed a familiar scent. A nostalgic scent. It smelt like the summer's breeze. He smiled to himself recognising it almost immediately. America. Which America? Alfred or the actual United States? Arthur tried to open his eyes and see, but was met with a blinding light and a splitting pain through his head. He groaned.

"Arthur! Are you awake?"

Alfred. He felt somewhat pleased for some reason. Arthur now vaguely remembered what had happened before he had awoken. He had been hurt. Alfred had saved him and put him to sleep. Where was he now? He could not feel the hard brick wall behind him; it had been replaced with soft, welcoming pillows. He opened his eyes to a squint and glimpsed a pair of worried looking eyes staring at him from the side of where he lay. Arthur withdrew a long breath and opened his eyes fully, allowing the mask of sleep to completely fall and the throbbing ache of his body to return.

He looked around the room and realised he was in a hospital, glancing down at his torso, he saw it was only covered by bandages. He glanced up, slightly embarrassed, at Alfred.

"How long have I been out?" He asked, unsure if he should want to hear the answer

"Five days." Alfred murmured, still running over Arthurs injuries with his eyes. Arthur made a mental note of the bags under Alfred's eyes and the tired look in his eyes. Had he stayed all that time?

"Are you feeling okay?" Alfred's question cut off his trail of thought.

Green eyes gazed up to meet concerned sky blue ones. Tiredness now replaced solely with worry. In any normal situation, Arthur would have snapped at the stupid question, he had been shot seven times and beaten to the ground. How would Alfred feel after that? But this was not a normal situation. He could see the worry in Alfred's eyes and so he replied with a simple "Yes."

"Thank fuck." Alfred breathed and launched himself out of his seat, embracing Arthur warmly. It was gentle, but even this slight movement caused Arthur to wince, and with the surprise of the hug, he was unable to prevent a whimper from escaping his mouth.

"Shit! Sorry! Did I hurt you?" Alfred cursed, leaping back.

Arthur chuckled, "No, I was just surprised, I'm fine Alfred" He lied, smiling gently towards the other nation.

Alfred's face softened and he returned the smile before sitting back down by the bed side, watching Arthur intently, as if still monitoring the aftermath of the hug.

"I should tell the nurse you're awake, she can probably give you something for the pain" He said, glancing over Arthurs injuries.

"I said I'm fine Alfred, I'm not in pain." Arthur replied, not wanting to seem like a burden to anyone.

He sat up further in bed, but felt pain shoot up his neck and he grabbed the left side of his neck with a gasp. Alfred's head shot up to see what was causing Arthur pain, when he saw the dark bruise Arthur was clutching, his face reddened and his eyes widened in embarrassment and alarm.

"Ah! I'm sorry, Arthur, but it's just you were in pain and I needed to take you and I couldn't, but the you said "Please Alfred" so I did, but I didn't mean to hurt you and I'm sorry! I'll get the nurse, you are hurt, and it's my fault, but I'm sorry! Please Arthur; understand I didn't mean to hurt you at all..." Alfred rambled in a flustered tone, trailing off at the ends of his sentences, as if distracted by the thought of the event that had taken place.

Arthur could only stare at Alfred's rapidly darkening face and his emerald eyes widened. Then he did something he regretted instantly, he laughed. He regretted this for two reasons, firstly, it hurt like hell, the vibrations of hurt causing his body to shake, and secondly, he saw the worried expression on Alfred's face turn to one of annoyance and increased embarrassment.

"Hey! Don't laugh!" The worry fading away as he saw Arthur acting naturally again "I'm serious Arthur!"

"S-sorry" Arthur managed through fits of giggles; he straightened "Sorry. Okay, serious now" he said, laughter fading to a slight grin.

"Thank you." Alfred grinned, all annoyance fading when he saw Arthur smile "Will you be alright for a second? I'll go fetch you some medication."

"I'll be fine." Arthur replied, stretching his back a bit to test how well his body was working.

"Okay. Be right back" Alfred flipped Arthur a thumbs up before exiting the room.

Arthur had fallen asleep by the time Alfred was back. He administrated the medicine through injection and returned to his seat by the bedside, watching over Arthur as he slept peacefully.

* * *

After the medication had removed the distraction of pain, Arthur awoke again and realised he was half-naked, alone, in a room with Alfred and suddenly blushed. Alfred noticed this and immediately offered worried questions, trying to help in any way possible.

"Does it hurt again? Do you need something? I'm sure you can even have more painkillers, I'll go ask,"

"No, no, I'm not hurt you git." Arthur spluttered, realising he now needed a reason for blushing, "I'm, er, just a bit hot..."

"Oh! Well why didn't you just say?" Alfred beamed, getting up to open the window on the far side or the room.

Once he had opened it, Alfred lingered at the window, fingers tracing patterns on the panes,

"Arthur?" He called quietly,

"Hm?" Arthur replied, curious as to what had caused the sudden mood change in the younger nation.

"Who did it?" He asked, still facing away, in a monotone voice.

"I-I don't know..." Arthur was surprised by the question and realised how little he remembered, "I can't remember anything... my head..." He trailed off, reliving the painful moments which ended the one sided fight.

He was too distracted to watch Alfred walk over and sit on the side of his bed, looking intently at Arthur. It was only when a breeze from the window ruffled his hair that he came to his senses, jumping slightly at the sight of Alfred, perched on the edge of the bed.

"I promise I'll get them for you." He said, ocean eyes glinting with anger and determination,

"But... I..." Arthur began before being cut off with a yawn from Alfred.

"Man, Iggy, I'm tired, move over, will ya?"

The laid back attitude and use of his undesired nickname caused Arthur to snap back to reality

"Sod off, you lazy git, this is my bed! I'm injured for Christ's sake! You want a bed? Shoot yourself in the bloody foot, you wanker!"

Alfred grinned, Arthur was swearing again. Good sign. He curled up on the end of the bed, much to Arthurs protest, and began to sleep. At first Arthur tried to kick him off, but that proved to be too much work in his condition and he allowed the American to have some well earned rest before his own eyes felt too heavy to watch over him any longer as he joined him in slumber.

* * *

Alfred woke first. He felt Arthur's gentle breathing blowing on the top of his head, sending small chills through his spine. He shifted, opening his bright sky coloured eyes. He was no longer at the foot of the bed. He had somehow moved in his sleep to lie next to Arthur, head resting in the crook of his neck. He inhaled deeply, feeling content and comfortable.

_Maybe I can dose off again_ he thought.

Before he could drift into blissful unconsciousness, he was alerted to the rasping noise coming from above him. He darted up, hopping off the bed to look at Arthur. His face had gone pale and his soft blond hair had begun to stick to the sweating, clammy skin. Arthur's steady breaths had been replaced with a rasping shallow panting, causing his face to contort in the pain of his sleep, his brows knitting low and lips twitching. Was he dreaming?

Alfred was unsure whether to wake him or not. He could only stare as Arthur twitched and writhed in his nightmare, frightened mumbles spilling from his unconscious lips. Alfred let the first tears fall onto the bedside. Why should Arthur suffer? He never hurt anybody, contrary to what Arthur would like his tough facade to show; Alfred knew Arthur would not intentionally harm anyone.

He glanced back at Arthur, the noises had stopped and his breathing was normal, but he was now shaking violently. Seeing this made his body heat up, his nerves twitching as he saw his dear friend shivering pathetically in a hospital bed. He ran to the window and punched the wall beside it, shattering the weak plaster on the surface. It crumbled onto the floor and he ignored the dull throb in his hand.

_Whoever fucked him up this bad deserves everything they get when I find them _He thought, tears still falling from his eyes and trailing down his now hot, angry cheeks. He wiped his eyes. He needed to stop Arthurs trembling, it may be hurting him. Perhaps heating him up would help.

He looked around. Only one thin blanket sat on the table. Wouldn't help much.

Body heat! Body heat was the most effective way or warming someone up.

_He's gonna kill me for this... _He smirked to himself and he lowered himself gently onto the bed, bringing his arms around the trembling Brit and pulling him close, breathing into his hair. Inhaling his calm scent and wiping his tears softly onto the pillow, he leaned affectionately into the Brit. _I'm just keeping him warm _he told himself, but enjoyed the giddy feeling in his stomach anyway and allowed his breathing to steady as he prepared to rest his troubled mind again, shutting his eyes from the glare of the street lights outside.

_See you in the morning..._

* * *

Wow, just realised how much they fall asleep here... ¬¬ MEH.


	3. Home

**I'M SORRY OF THE LACK OF UPDATES . Between school starting again and holidays, I kinda flopped ¬¬**

**I'm so bad at this game...**

**BUT YOU GUYS, I LOVE YOU ALL, what with your reviews and watches and favs... Geez, your all great.**

**Anyway, I have decided to update AT LEAST once a month, depending on my mood, you may get more.**

* * *

Something felt wrong. Alfred remembered going to sleep next to Arthur; he could no longer feel his warmth. He bolted upright, searching around the room. No Arthur. Shit.

He leapt up from the bed, his actions becoming flustered with worry. Too intent on finding Arthur, Alfred failed to realise the stray pillow on the floor. He flew face first into the floor. Laughter erupted from behind him. He spun to see who was taking such pleasure in his misfortune.

Arthur stood behind him, chuckling, hair dripping wet from the shower. He was wearing his uniform trousers, with his shirt thrown on, the buttons were not yet done up, so Alfred could see Arthurs wounds. They looked raw and painful, but the bleeding seemed to have stopped. His uniform was torn and bloody from the attack six days ago.

Alfred sat up, bemused,

"You've got clothes on." He said, one eyebrow raised.

"I know..." Arthur replied, wondering if Alfred had seriously injured his head when he fell.

"No, I mean _your clothes_. You're not wearing the hospital gown."

"Oh, yes. They say I can go home, you know, fast healing and all."

Alfred gave his friend's chest an uneasy glance, he didn't look much better.

"Are you sure? You wounds don't look entirely healed..."

"What? Oh... Well, they don't hurt anymore" He beamed down at Alfred for a second, then seemed distracted, his eyes clouding, and he retreated to the bathroom without another word, shutting the door behind him.

Arthur seemed off to Alfred, he was acting strange.

_What the hell was that about?_ America hated it when he didn't know what England was thinking, Arthur was usually so forward with his emotions, be it anger, annoyance or... well that pretty much covered it...

* * *

Arthur splashed cold water over his face, drying it with his sleeve. Despite his normal demeanour, the pain he was suffering was making it difficult to stay standing, but he didn't want to seem weak to Alfred. Not after all of this. He didn't think he could stoop much lower in Alfred's mind though.

But despite being nowhere near ready to go, he had to get out. Staying here was fraying his nerves. Staying here meant he was a stationary target. A sitting duck. He was just becoming more and more paranoid with each passing hour. Whoever had attacked him had managed to stalk him down to a small alleyway is South London, why wouldn't they be able to find him here and finish him?

Or maybe they didn't want to finish him. Maybe they wanted to drag all this out. Arthurs mind flashed back to the nightmare he had experienced last night. Locked up in chains while beaten and ripped to shreds. His breath caught in his chest, he tried to shake his head to rid himself of the bad thoughts, but it just made his vision blur, the world spinning around him. He stumbled slightly before catching himself, steadying himself with a hand on the sink. He stood there, teetering for a few seconds before falling backwards, vision completely black.

Arthur waited for the cold embrace of the bathroom tiles, splitting his skull and opening wounds. But it didn't come. Instead he felt a warm presence of strong arms wrapped around his torso. He blinked away the darkness to peer around at his support.

"You okay?" Alfred's eyes shone in confusion and concern.

Arthur could only nod, eyes wide.

"Doesn't seem that way..." Alfred reached around to Arthur's cheek and wiped away tears which Arthur had no idea he had shed. He blushed, turning back away from Alfred to hide his embarrassment. He dislodged himself from Alfred's arms and sat on the rim of the bath tub.

"Sorry, I, er, don't know what came over me there...I was just..." Arthur trailed off, looking up to Alfred with , despite the fake smile he flashed, a helpless state about him.

Looking down at Arthur, as his bright green eyes glinted in the badly lit bathroom, with such a look of bewilderment in those eyes. It was too much for Alfred's dear heart. Seeing Arthur like this was already creating a vice like grip in his chest, every glance towards the older male making him feel uneasy and worried, and now, that face. Those eyes...

Alfred swooped down and collected a startled Arthur in his arms, he buried his face in Arthurs soft, sandy hair and inhaled his scent. Even after all of this, he still smelt distinctly of fresh rain, with a hint of bergamot orange. Alfred loved that smell.

Arthur was at first too shocked to react, then too dizzy from the sudden change in positioning, Alfred nearly lifting him off the floor, it took him a while to regain his disposition and steady his legs. Because there was no instant complaint or struggle, Alfred took this as a sign to hold Arthur tighter. He squeezed the frail body in his arms and Arthur let out a noise which sounded suspiciously like a "meep".

"Al-alfred, get off." He ordered, struggling in the hold.

"No, you need a hug."

"No, I don't. I'm fine."

"Lying is bad, Iggy."

"Arthur."

"No Iggy, you're Arthur, I'm Alfred. Proof that you're not fine, can't even remember your own name."

"No, I meant for you to call me...Oh never mind"

_This is hopeless _thought Arthur, finally surrendering to the embrace, too apathetic at the time to do anything, growing lazy in the presence of Alfred's warm affection.

He lent slightly into Alfred and closed his eyes; maybe a quick escape from reality in those arms _wasn't_ so bad. He felt safer, warmer and, although he would never admit it, quite content.

Alfred tightened his hold again, this time squeezing Arthur's chest slightly. This caused one of Arthurs healing ribs to shoot pain through his body, he gasped. Alfred's hold on him loosened immediately, but didn't leave.

"Fuck, did I hurt you?" He asked, peering down to see the damage he had caused.

"No, I'm fine, just my ribs are still a bit sore..."

Alfred took in this information and thought back to what Arthur had said earlier, that he could leave because his wounds didn't hurt.

"Are you really healed Arthur?"

"W-what?"

"Your wounds and breaks. They still hurt you don't they?"

Since when did Alfred work things out or notice things?

"O-only a little." Arthur worked hard to control his voice in the dishonesty of the statement, but he stuttered a little as his ribs were still causing him unease with breathing. "But... I-I...I need to get out of here, Alfred..."

The sentence was released in almost a whisper, breathed against the Americans chest. Alfred's brows furrowed as he absorbed the statement. Was Arthur...scared?

He didn't want that, not at all. Arthur had always been the brave one. He wasn't even afraid of ghosts, and ghosts were frickin' scary.

"Okay... we can leave then, go to your place, right?"

"Thank you..." Arthur murmured into Alfred's torso. They stayed like that for a few minutes until Arthur noticed the hand rubbing small circles on his back.

"A-anyway, you can get off me now" he stuttered, stumbling slightly backwards. Alfred made a move to catch him, but Arthur steadied himself, raising a hand to signal he was fine.

Alfred watched as the flustered Englishman shuffled out of the bathroom, mumbling something about unnecessary displays of affection. He grinned. The vice grip on his chest was seemingly fading, Arthur didn't seem as distant or depressed now, even if he was still slightly out of it.

At least he got a hug.

* * *

As the pair began to gather the few things Arthur had left in the room(mainly little things that Alfred had ordered in), America became aware of the thick silence between them. Arthur had seemed to perk up in the last ten minutes, after Alfred had said he would take him home. The tight feeling in Alfred's chest was dissolving as Arthur began to relax into himself again. _Say something that won't make him upset or angry, _he thought. Though, for Alfred, this was easier said than done.

"Want another cuddle Iggy?"

Arthur raised his eyes from the sheets he was folding, eyes narrowing into a deadly glare in Alfred's direction, brows furrowed and a slight growl emanating though the air.

"You speak of that again, you die."

Tight feeling gone. Replaced with slight fear for life, but Al was used to that.

Arthur collected the last of his things and walked out the door, followed closely by Alfred, they said goodbye to the hospital staff and made their way to the car park.

* * *

"Still okay, Iggy?"

Alfred peered over at Arthur, who sat next to him in the passenger seat of Alfred's jeep, which he had had driven over so he could drive Arthur home himself.

"WATCH THE FUCKING ROAD, YOU GIT!"

"Not until I know you're okay."

"I'M FINE, NOW STEER!"

Alfred's eyes returned to the road, a faint smile on his face, which quickly disappeared as he swerved to avoid a lorry, the sudden movement slamming Arthur into the car door. He grunted.

"Bloody git, can't fucking watch the road. Can't even drive on the right side..."

"What? I thought I was meant to be driving on the left side. Damn..." Alfred began to turn the car to the other side of the road; panic awoke Arthur from his mumbling, eyes open wide.

"CORRECT SIDE, I MEANT CORRECT SIDE. STAY LEFT, STAY LEFT!"

This was _not_ good for his nerves...

* * *

**So yeah... I believe the plot will become more prominent soon. And the love. More love coming your way ,**

**I think I will update soon, I've realized how short my chapters are...**

**Oh, and if anyones got advice on how to make it better or anything, please do tell me :)**


	4. Wake

OKAY! I'm sorry it's been so long, and this is really short, but I promise another chapter really soon, with the introduction of more characters coming up soon. SORRY FOR BEING SO RUBBISH T^T

* * *

Arthur screamed as the hammer once again connected with his left hand, smashing the joints that lay there. He could not tell how long this had been going on for; his mind had long ago deteriorated into a numbing state, unable to hold the concept of time.

All he knew was that Alfred had gone. Left for the first time in a week, and they had come for him. Why did he believe him when he had said he would protect him?

Fresh tears sprung to Arthur's eyes as the thought of betrayal momentarily clouded his mind, before his concentration was brought whirring back to the hammer, now splitting the bone in his arm.

Arthur looked up at his assailant from his place kneeling on the floor, but he could not see him, his face seemed obscured, his eyes unable to focus on the shadowy figure above him.

The man reached into his pocket as Arthurs eyes flew to the gloved hands, lingering on the small silver object withdrawn from the pocket, the glint of light catching Arthur's eye.

His face paled and eyes widened as the blade descended onto him, digging into his right shoulder, blood spilling on contact. He gasped in pain, chocking on the air as the wielder began to drag the blade through the flesh, Arthur's vision began to blur, fading in and out of the darkness, eye lids fluttering slightly.

The blade stopped its sickening journey and the man withdrew it, seeing Arthur becoming semi-conscious and not wanting to spare the Brit any pain.

He struck the injured nation, the hit sending Arthur crashing to the floor where he lay trembling and whimpering at the impact.

The man knelt beside him and put his hand on Arthurs injured shoulder, fingers crawling into the chasm left there. He suddenly sat Arthur up and spun him around; their faces now inches apart, hazy jade eyes searching for identity in the shadowy figure.

Just as Arthur was regaining his sight from the blur of darkness, he was shaken violently. He could tell he was being yelled at, but the words weren't forming in his mind. He could hear two voices. One was shouting at him, was it telling him to get up? He couldn't quite hear it above the other sound. Screaming, wailing, begging. He realised the source of the second sounds cursed himself for allowing the foul noises for escaping his mouth. He tried to stop screaming but the piercing wails continued to spill from his throat, echoing in his head.

As the yells and screams continued, spiking each time his broken fingers brushed the wall, or the probing fingers ventured to far into his wound, the shaking became more frantic and the words being bellowed became louder.

"-KE UP! ARTHUR!"

He knew that voice.

"-EAM! C'MON ARTHUR, IT'S ME!"

Me. He knew that "me." Alfred hadn't left him to be hurt; he had stayed to hurt him.

Arthur's eyes flew open as he fell back onto the bed sheets, screaming and writhing against Alfred's hands on his shoulders which still shook him. A fresh sob escaped his lips and tears sprung from his glistening eyes. The shaking stopped.

"Arthur? Are you-" Alfred was interrupted by an incomprehensible sound from Arthur. "What?"

"P-please st-s-stop, Alfred, I-I'm sorry. I'm s-so sorry."

"Arthur, it's me, you're safe now, it was-"

"S-stop, I-I c-can't..."

"Arthur? Arthur, it's me, Alfred. You were dreaming, you're awake now, and whatever was happening, isn't anymore. Artie? Look at me."

Arthur cast his watery eyes upwards, his face searching for an answer to the confusion he was suffering.

"D-dream?"

Alfred smiled warmly.

"Yeah, a dream. Not real, you're here now, with me, and you're safe."

Arthur stared down at his hands. They were normal, no deformity or bruising. He brought his pale, slender fingers up to his right shoulder and traced the line where the knife had pierced him. Nothing.

It took a second for it to all sink in, but eventually, green eyes found watching blue ones, the look lingering for a second before Arthur collapsed into a grateful heap on Alfred's lap.

"Deep breaths, baby"

Arthur, slowly coming to his senses, noted the "baby" and head butted Alfred's gut. Alfred only smirked and rubbed Arthurs shoulder soothingly. They lay in silence for a while, Arthur finding it easy to relax in Alfred's warm presence as he curled up in his arms and felt drowsiness begin to take hold.

"Thank you for not leaving." He murmured

"Leaving?"

"In my dre- my nightmare, you had gone, and I thought you migh-."

"I DID WHAT?"

Arthur looked up, startled and slightly surprised. Alfred looked angry. Really angry. His brows were furrowed and his cheeks had turned red, his eyes had taken a dangerous dark tint. Arthur, still not completely calm, began to back away, onto the headboard of the bed.

At the sight of Arthur retreating, eyes wide and face pale, Alfred calmed.

"Sorry Artie, it's just... I ran away?"

"No, Alfred, you weren't there to begin with, you went out at the start and then..."

"But I didn't even come to save you?"

Ah. Arthur saw his slip-up. Heroes didn't run.

"Well... I suppose not technically..."

"Eh? What? If I didn't save you, I didn't save you Artie, no technicality about it..."

"Well, I think you saved me. You woke me up, didn't you?" Arthur smiled warmly "Thank you, Alfred."

The redness that Alfred had just lost after his sudden anger outburst now returned tenfold in a face consuming blush.

"S'okay." He mumbled.

Arthur smiled and opened his mouth to say something, but he could only suffice with a soft yawn.

"You still tired? I can go..."

As Alfred began to rise off the bed, Arthurs head gave a sudden throb and images of the hammer and knife flashed back to his head. He didn't want to dream right now. He reached out and grabbed Alfred's arm.

"No, I'm awake now and it's nearly morning anyway. Not much point in going back to sleep, is there?"

Arthur rose off the bed and walked to the draws in the corner of his room, hiding his face from Alfred, in case he could see the lie written across there. Alfred looked over at Arthur, concerned, his movements still seemed off and his steps too cautious.

"...Artie, if you're too scared to sleep alone, I'll stay here until you fall back asleep again."

Well, shit, if Alfred wasn't the little observant one this week. Arthur looked over and smiled weakly.

"Doubt it would help, but thank you. I just need something to take my mind off it... Tea?"

* * *

SORRY That was pretty bad, eh? I'VE GOT THE BLOCK!

Eh, well I'll carry on trying...


	5. Daze

SORRY. I'm so sorry. Really sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. IT'S SO LAAAATE.

ARGH.

Well, I really don't have much of an excuse, so just read.

I will try and get better... ¬¬

* * *

The pair ended up in Arthur's garden, the morning cold only just biting through to the skin, turning cheeks slightly rosy against pale skin. Alfred lay sprawled on the grass, gazing up at the wispy clouds as Arthur brought out a small breakfast selection to decorate the small teak table with.

"You act like such a child." Arthur commented as he watched Alfred roll onto his stomach to watch him from the grass "Or maybe a dog..."

Alfred only grinned and made a little 'woof' sound before pushing himself up and joining Arthur at the table, smiling inwardly when he realised the majority of the food was shop-bought, rather than home-made. Best not to start the day with Arthur's cooking.

Arthur lent back in his seat and unfolded his newspaper, the front page displaying an article about the government spending cuts, explaining the slight ache he felt behind his eyes. Why was he always the last to hear about these things? It was his country... or something like that. He was out of the loop at the moment, hadn't really been outside the house since the attack and thus had missed a lot of meetings.

Alfred, as if reading Arthurs thoughts, looked over to the smaller blond and spoke up.

"Hey Artie, are you coming to the World meeting tomorrow? I mean, like, are you ready for that?"

"Tomorrow...?"

"Yeah, I totally forgot as well, but then Mattie texted me to remind me. So... you up for that?"

Arthur's eyes diverted to the floor, his face relaxing into a state of thought. He had totally forgotten about _those_ sorts of meetings. He supposed he didn't want to think about them. Whenever he and Alfred had spoken about possible suspects, the only ones with motives were the other nations. They were the only ones who really knew him.

He mulled the thought over. He probably _should_ go; he had missed out on enough already, all of his wounds and breaks had healed to scars and his strength was mostly regained. But the harsh truth was that he was still scared. Still scared to go there, standing alone against his attempted murderer and still have no idea to who they were. Obscured by a mask of anonymity, hidden amongst people he knew so well.

"I'd be there with you, of course...If that helps..."

"Oh! Um... Yes, I suppose so..." Arthurs distracted emerald orbs flicked back to Alfred who only offered a slightly blank look.

"Suppose so what?"

What indeed. Okay, so Arthur wouldn't be completely alone. Alfred would be there. Of course he would, he wouldn't leave his side if Arthur didn't want him to. A warm feeling of loyalty and familiarity enveloped Arthur. A warmness which he did not realise had reached his face, which had now turned a tinged pink.

"Arthur, you okay? You're spacing out and going all red, you want to go back in and sleep?"

"Eh? Red?" Arthur brought his hands up to his face and felt the heat it was emitting, eyes growing wide, he buried his face in his hands.

"S-sorry..."

Had he really just gone bright red from thinking about Alfred? Now why would that happen? He continued to fall into embarrassed puzzlement until he heard a soft chuckle from across the table. His eyes darted up to see Alfred stifling a laugh, gazing over at Arthur with a fond look on his face.

"Wh-what?" Arthur could feel his face getting redder, the tips of his ears also heating, though they weren't visible through his sandy mop of blond.

"You're hilarious, Artie. Don't ever change."

His brows furrowed as he calculated a comeback, which was harder that it sound when you brain has decided to completely shut down from some sort of... What was this exactly? Arthur knew deep down, but didn't want to say it. Falling for Alfred was the last thing he needed; Alfred was his last piece of stability these days, as he wobbled unsteadily through life. He didn't want to freak him out or anything...

Alfred soon became aware that Arthur had once again become lost in thought, his brows knitting as a vacant expression clouded his normally so clear eyes.

"...Artie?"

He got up and sighed, a smile on his face as he watched the Brit staring into space, completely out of it. Collecting up the remaining items on the table, he walked back to the house to tidy up a bit. He could be helpful when he wanted to be.

* * *

After about an hour's worth of tidying, Alfred ended up in Arthur's room. It was now reaching midday, so Alfred opened the heavy curtains only to be met by a melancholy view of gloom. Arthur's house really did take the piss when it came to rain. Every time he visited. Really? Even more shocking was the sight below. Arthur still sat exactly where me left him, his gaze flitting about as if he was watching something and his lips moving slightly as if indicating speech, although no-one was there.

Alfred stood for a moment, watching Arthur with furrowed brow before an understanding washed over him as he chuckled.

"Imaginary friends again..." He sighed to himself.

Oh well, Arthur would be getting cold soon, sitting alone in his shitty weather, better go and snap him out of faerie-ville. Before he went back downstairs, he grabbed a think jumper for Arthur, who was wearing only a thin shirt on his torso.

On his way out of the kitchen, which led to the garden, Alfred flicked the kettle on, knowing Arthur would probably want tea again. It was always fucking teatime in the UK.

Alfred gripped the door handle and opened the backdoor, making it halfway along the garden path before his eyes told his legs to stop.

Arthur sat gazing off into god knows where, a slight sad expression on his face, a sort of fallen smile. Whatever he had been talking to was gone, as his emerald eyes were staring past anything physical, lost in thought or daydream. The light, sandy blond his hair normally displayed was matted into a more deep tone, nearing brunette and it clung to his head, leaving him looking smaller and more vulnerable. His face was tilted slightly to the sky, allowing the raindrops to collect on his dark lashes before tumbling down his cheeks.

Alfred could only stand there, becoming more soaked with every passing second, entranced by the sight in front of him. Since when did Arthur look so... nice? Since nations were all so old, Alfred never really took in how young Arthur was physically. Older than him, sure, but only slightly. Not as old as his personality made him seem.

A particularly violent shiver overtook Alfred's body, snapping him back to the present as he stepped forward and jogged towards the table. Upon reaching it, Arthur glanced his way, his face not leaving it's angle to the sky, only a small flicker of green flashing in his direction.

"Ireland's still not better. Alasdair's worried too, he just won't let off."

"Alasdair...?"

Alfred's brows furrowed. Had Alasdair been here? If he had, he was gonna punch that Scottish dick in the face. Blue eyes began to flick around the garden, searching for a mop of ginger and a sly smile. More than once had Arthur turned up at his door, a complete wreck because of him. Who hurts their siblings? Bastards, that's who. He would never hurt Mattie, so why...? Fucking hated the man.

Sensing Alfred becoming wrapped in thought, Arthur spoke up.

"He's not here. Wasn't here. He sent... someone."

Alfred looked around.

"Who? When did they go?"

"No. _Someone_."

"Huh?" Alfred thought for a second, before remembering that he had seen Arthur seemingly talking to himself from inside.

"OH! An imaginary friend?"

"No. Well, yes, but not _imaginary_. Real."

"Suuuuuure, Artie."

Arthur huffed as he stood, grumbling about American gits and changeable weather. He shot Alfred one last glare at him before trudging back to the house.

* * *

Upon entering the kitchen, Arthur had the sudden (but not unusual) urge for tea. He walked over to the kettle only to discover it was already boiled.

"Arthur, I already did the kettle." Said Alfred from behind him, slipping his soaked shoes off onto the mat.

"Yes, I noticed. Thank you. Tea?"

"Blech. No. Coffee? Maybe? You got that?"

Alfred flicked the thermostat higher, so Arthur could warm up.

"I've got coffee. You're the only one who ever drinks it anyway."

"Awwww, so considerate." Alfred said, slipping his hands around Arthur's waist from behind him.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Arthur spluttered out, nearly dropping the coffee beans on the counter.

"Hugging you of course." Alfred chirped.

"W-well, you can stop that. All of you Americans are like this, inappropriate displays of affection, it's all peace and love, never get things done."

"So you'd rather do work than hug me? That is harsh Artie, even for you." Alfred smiled into Arthur's hair, nuzzling him affectionately.

"Bloody hell, Alfred. Stop being so overly emotional, just get off me, I have things to-"

"You're shivering, Arthur."

"What? No, it's just th-"

"You can't get ill again." Alfred sounded worried, near whining into Arthur's ear.

His grip tightened as their bodies were pressed closer together, as if sharing heat.

"I-I was never ill in the first place."

Tighter.

"You weren't well."

And then the embrace was gone. Arthur looked around to see Alfred picking up his brown leather bomber jacket from a chair, throwing it to Arthur, who caught it by instinct.

"This is yours..." Arthur said, slightly confused.

"But it's warm. You can go and sit down or something, I'll make the tea."

"No, it's okay. I'm not ill Alfred, I'm fine, I can do it myself."

"Don't care, go sit."

"Oh. Um, thank you, I suppose, then."

Arthur stepped back and pulled the leather bomber jacket onto his slim form, slipping his arms through and turning back to Alfred, who was already at the counter, pulling and putting things in and out of shelves. Not knowing what to say, Arthur retreated to the sitting room, falling back onto the sofa nearest the radiator.

He leant back, his hands rubbing his arms as tiny shivers continued to reverberate through his body. He didn't realise he was this cold. Bringing his knees up to his chest and leaning on the arm rest, his hands moved from his arms to wrap around his knees, bracing himself in a shrinking hold.

Maybe he was catching a cold. He wouldn't be surprised, the state of his economy these days. Hm. Alfred might be right...Probably not, Alfred never knew what he was talking about anyway. And he was acting weird today. Perhaps he was just being... kinder? He wasn't usually unkind; he just seemed more caring today. He tidied up a bit, he calmed him down when he woke up, he was making the tea and he gave Arthur his jacket.

His warm, soft jacket. Arthur buried his head in his chest and inhaled. It smelt of Alfred. Alfred had a nice smell, quite gentle. In his foetal position and with his deep breathing, Arthur quickly grew drowsy, the warmth and scent of the leather surrounding him. His eye lids grew heavy, but every time they dropped closed, fear pushed them back open. He didn't want a repeat of the nightmare. He'd just stay awake.

But that was becoming tricky. His eyes kept falling closed, but then his mind would send alarm signals running through him so he snapped them back open, eyes darting around until they fell closed again, only to repeat the process. It was growing frustrating and he was in a near trance-like state, until Alfred walked in, a mug in each hand. The soft scent of tea roused Arthur enough to raise his head, his grip around his legs loosening slightly.

For a second Alfred just stood in the doorway, leaning against the wall, with a bemused expression on his face. Arthur attempted to keep his eyes trained on him, tried to open his mouth and ask him what the hell he was smirking at, but when he did all that emerged was a deep yawn, which he hid in his knees.

He tried again, but realised his body and mind had become apathetic to anything he wanted to do, even form a sentence. The soft warmth of Alfred's jacket and the light pitter-patter of the rain outside were slowly lulling him into a useless state of drowsiness.

"Tired now?"

Arthur nodded lazily but then shook his head. He was tired, but he didn't want to sleep. Alfred rolled his eyes in feigned exasperation and set the mugs down on the side table.

"Budge up." He said, gently pushing Arthur on the side. He was met with a small squeak of annoyance as Arthur shuffled along the sofa, not changing from his curled up position.

Alfred watched with a slightly amused smile spreading on his face. Arthur was adorable when he was tired. So goddamn cute. He didn't shout at Alfred, hell he didn't talk at all, just sat there looking all sleepy and... 'cuddleable'.

His face still glowing in adoration, Alfred plopped on the sofa next to Arthur, who grumbled slightly at the disturbance, his eyes now lightly closed. Alfred began to move around a bit, trying to find a comfortable way to sit. Arthur cracked his eyes open again at the jostling, shooting a slightly curious glare towards Alfred, who stopped moving and settled back.

"Sorry. You can sleep now, I'll be here."

Arthurs dark brows furrowed as he inhaled deeply, shaking his head.

"No." It didn't come out as a word, more as a hum or moan.

"Why not?"

Arthur shook his head a bit so he could clear his mind a bit, before opening and closing his mouth a few times, stifling a yawn, until he finally 'spoke' again.

"Because, no." He murmured, in an almost sulky tone.

Hm. Cute.

Before Arthur could react to anything, he was pulled into Alfred's torso and warm arms were fixed around him. He tried to voice a complaint, but all that passed his lips was a small "nyeh" until he admitted lazy defeat.

"Sleep, okay? You're tired and you'll get ill. I'm not going to sleep, and I'll stay here, okay?"

Another mumble.

"What, Iggy? I can't hear you..."

"Off, 'm not tired...not..." A soft yawn, "Tired."

"Kay Iggy, just keep telling yourself that."

Alfred ruffled Arthur's hair, now near dry after the rain, and smirked. Arthur was letting him hug him, nay, _hold _him. Best. Day. Ever.

As Arthur fell deeper and deeper into drowsiness, Alfred began musing to himself. Maybe he could live here all the time. Arthur was probably lonely. And what if he needed a pillow again, like right now? Alfred should be the one to step in and be cushion-hero.

Or other things that needed doing.

They could always move to America. If they lived here too long, Alfred would get too used to Britain and it wouldn't be a treat when he got to visit anymore... Or maybe the only reason it felt like a treat when he went was because of Arthur. If Arthur went with him, would he still get excited whenever he saw him?

Probably. Arthur never got boring. Always doing unexpected little stuff, or acting all weird when Alfred did little things like hugged him or made him a meal. That was cute. But this was cute too, having him fall asleep in his lap. He'd never really done that either. Anyway, point was, Alfred could spend as much time with Arthur as he wanted and he'd never get bored. So why not spend _all _of his time with him?

It would be just like the last week or so, and look how great that was turning out. Adorable slumbering Brit in his arms. He'd have to suggest it to Arthur when he remembered again. For now he would have to find something else to do. Couldn't disturb Arthur, he needed this rest, he hadn't been sleeping too well recently anyway, without the cold. Alfred slept in the room across from him, and sometimes he could hear Arthur start awake in the night with a gasp, then toss and turn until Alfred fell asleep himself.

Must be real he was Arthur, he thought, he'd just take loads of naps all day...

After a good five minutes of playing eye spy with himself, Alfred's attention was brought down to the unconscious face rubbing into his torso, nearly nuzzling him, sandy blond becoming ruffled at the slight movement. It took Alfred every bit of energy not to grab Arthur and squeeze him at that moment. So. Frickin'. Adorable. Arthur sighed in his sleep, and Alfred realised that if he watched him any longer, he might have to hug him .Tight.

So he looked away and got his phone from his pocket.

_1 new message: Mattie_

Alfred opened it;

_Hey, you coming to the conference tomorrow? Matt._

Alfred looked down at Arthur.

_Not sure yet, Arthur's still not in the best state atm._

He waited for the tell tale beep of Matthew's reply.

_You could just leave him at home, and you come, he'd probably be fine._

Alfred thought about this for a moment. Would Arthur be fine on his own? He'd probably say he would be, but Alfred knew better.

_Nah Mattie, I can't. I'll just see what he wants to do._

He went back to petting Arthur's hair gently until his phone beeped and vibrated again.

_Whipped ;p_

Well, he just wasn't going to reply to that.


End file.
